


Interludes (and Other Deadly Sins)

by magnificent



Series: Love and Other Deadly Sins [7]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Healing, Healthy Relationships, Misunderstandings, Oneshot, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 07:11:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17259842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnificent/pseuds/magnificent
Summary: A short and sweet oneshot. Nova POV. This should be read as part of the series, although it isn't necessary.





	Interludes (and Other Deadly Sins)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year! I'd had this sitting around for a long time and figured I'd post it. A big thank-you to anyone who still cares about this silly old series! ^-^

It's been another long week without Helena around. And slow business. It seems that half the time she comes, the town drops in on our bar just to eavesdrop and get some updates on all the good she's been doing out in the wastelands. Updates along with juicy detail, that is—stories interspersed with her classically crude humor and relentless offbeat comments.

Oh, yes, you might not think that the dear little town of Megaton might have such tastes, but I see the Stahl boys listening in on her when she talks about blowing the brains out of a raider, begging for mercy even as she laughs. They have a perverse interest in violence and death.

Me, I've had enough of that stuff.

“Nova,” Gob rasps, walking down the stairs. “I've finished with the cleaning. Any customers yet?”

“Still too early,” I sigh. “Just like the last time you asked.”

The ghoul looks at the wall clock. “It's almost lunch time, though.”

“Aren't you forgetting that we're competing with the Brass Lantern?” I ask, leaning on the bar. Christ, my back hurts. Been standing with nothing to do for hours. “Why would people go a bar run by a ghoul when they can go to a _real human_ for some home-cooked food?”

I put air quotes around that part so that Gob knows I ain't picking on him, but he'd probably know I didn't mean it even if I hadn't. We've worked together for five years. By now we know each other through and through.

He sighs and runs a hand back through his sparse hair. “Yeah... I should'a known that the bar wasn't a good idea. But since Helena asked us...”

“Hey, we're only a few months into it,” I say. “Don't lose hope just yet. I did say it was still too early, right? Soon enough people will get used to Moriarty being gone and they'll start coming back. And once Helena finishes on those plans she's working on for the brand-new bar, we'll look better than ever. The townies will come back for drinkin', and the caravans will stay for even longer. And this time it won't be just because we got the best lookin' whore on this side of the Mississippi.”

Gob brightens a little. “Yeah... yeah! You're right. You're always right, of course.”

“That's what I've been saying all along, ain't it?” I ask idly, and inspect my fingernails. You'd think that after being in... _public service_ for five years would make a girl care a lot about her appearance, but after I quit whoring, I think I've found myself paying more attention to the smaller details. Scrubbing my hair that extra five seconds. Keeping my nails clean.

“You want me to make lunch for us?” he asks eagerly.

“Awh, sweetie, I got it,” I say, reaching underneath the counter for the breadbox. Least the one good thing Colin did was sit on a heap of caps for us. Now that he's dead, all his shit is mine, and I can afford good food for Gob and I. We eat rye bread with butter, and tomatoes, and sometimes a little bit of stewed Brahmin meat that I pick up from the Brass Lantern.

Better than the stale shit that Colin was feeding us. Sometimes I was glad to whore myself out when it meant that my clients would give me a bite to eat. Enamored caravan guards would bring me peaches...

But that was then. Things are better now, even if they are a bit of extra work. And I ain't as tired all the time, and I sure as hell ain't as sore.

“How do you want it?” I ask. “Soup, sandwiches? Maybe someday I'll think of something else to make with bread and vegetables.”

“Sandwiches are fine,” Gob says. He watches me as I work, and I hum a little while I dip the knife into butter. This... this is the way things should have been all along. Now that Colin's dead, I feel peace like I'd never imagined was possible.

And if Helena had asked me first, I don't know if I could have asked her to kill him. I mean, five years of being pimped out by the guy, you _do_ get a little attached, no matter how wrong or twisted it might seem. Colin was an evil bastard, but as much as he'd slap Gob and I around, he was _okay_ to me. Most of the time. Of course, that ended when he found out about the discounts I was giving to Jericho.

 _Slimy bastard._ I'd only done it to try and help the guy, and he'd thrown it back in my face.

“You've got that look on your face again,” Gob says quietly.

“I do?” I focus on my task again. Almost done. I'm slicing the tomatoes and setting them onto the bread when I realize my hands are shaking.

“Nova,” Gob murmurs, and makes his way around the counter.

“I'm fine,” I insist. “Really. It's just, things remind me, and then...”

The rape.

Neither of us mention it, but the thing that had driven Helena to kill him, it looms over me sometimes. Overwhelming. Not like it hasn't happened to me before, but it was never by Moriarty. In some small way, I'd trusted Colin not to touch me, and he'd broken the tiny bit of faith that I'd had in him.

Gob hugs me, and the trembling slows down. I clench my hands, feeling his chest against my back, his hands circling around my waist, his breathing matching mine.

My hands stop shaking and I turn around to hug him back. “Thanks, Gobbie. You're a real sweetheart.”

“Anytime, Nova. I... I'd do anything for you. And not just because Helena asked me to look out for you.”

I laugh, handing him a sandwich. “Don't be getting soft on me, now.”

He blushes a little and doesn't say anything, still staring at me eagerly. Gob's one of the more naive people in Megaton, no matter how much shit he's been through, and that's the only reason I can come up with for his awestruck idolization of me. Ever since I started working for Colin, he's been following me around, checking up on me, always trying to help me out.

Now that I think of it, I probably wouldn't have survived this job if I hadn't had that ghoul to help cheer me up.

He's a good kid.

The door flies open and a group of caravan guards tromp inside. I cast Gob a quick smile before giving them a lazy wave.

“Hey, boys. Welcome to Gob's saloon. What can I do for ya?”

“Three beers to start,” one of the men says. I get them set up at a table, all smiles, playful comments, and I see them lapping it up like water in a desert. This particular group is all guys, so they must have been missing female company. It's definitely true that there are a lot fewer female caravan guards than male ones.

“You call me back anytime you need me,” I purr, resting a hand on one of their shoulders.

“Sure thing, Miss Nova!”

I smile. _Not used to being called that._

The door bangs open again, and this time I sigh. A fourth caravan guard walks in, glances around, and lays eyes on me.

I remember this guy. Asshole by the name of Clipper. Previous client of mine. I remember him because he swore at me the whole time he was fucking me, blaming me for being the reason why he was cheating on his wife. After he'd come and rolled off of me, he slapped my face and then didn't come back.

“You,” he says, stopping in front of the bar. “What's your name again?”

“It's Nova,” I say, bored. “You tryin' to write me a love poem or something? Sorry, I can't help you with any rhymes, you'll have to come up with them yourself.”

He grits his teeth. “I want you upstairs. One hundred and twenty caps, right?”

“What a classy gentleman,” I mutter. “Look, baby, it'd be nice, but I quit whoring. In case you didn't notice, this place is under new management.”

Clipper gapes at me. “What? You... you can't quit!”

“Huh... Gob, is there some kinda law around here that says I have to jump at any opportunity to have sex with this animal? No? Huh, too bad. I think that's called bestiality, anyways.”

“You bitch!” he snarls.

“Now _there's_ a word I'm used to hearing from you,” I say, my voice hardening. “I've quit, whether you like it or not. So you can order a drink, or you can walk your ass out the door.”

“You're worse than a harlot!” Clipper growls. “Teasing me, leading me on, making me go upstairs with you... and now that you've got me interested, you say that you've quit?”

“I saw you last over _five months_ ago,” I snap, finally losing my patience. “And I did nothing to make you go upstairs. You _asked_ me.”

“Well, this time I'm through with asking,” he growls, stepping right up to the bar. “I'm telling you. Go. Upstairs.”

Despite myself, I stumble back. I have a sudden image of Colin before me, his long silver hair wild, his face red as he screams at me. Those rough hands forcing me down-

“Get out of my bar,” Gob rasps.

Broken out of my reverie, I stare at the ghoul. He's standing next to the bar, blocking Clipper from getting around to me, and he looks _hella_ mad.

“What the fuck?” Clipper snarls. “I don't take orders from a zombie.”

“You'll take 'em from this one,” he says, deadly serious. “Nova's quit her job, and I'm not gonna let an asshole like you try to make her go back.”

He laughs and sneers, “Yeah, I remember you too. Cringing little asswipe. Listen. I'm gonna fuck your whore, and then I'll piss on your rotting corpse. How about that?”

Gob reaches for the back of his waistband and pulls out a gun. My eyes widen, and Clipper starts. I didn't even know Gob _carried_ a gun.

Apparently Clipper hadn't expected him to either.

Gob clicks the safety off, and says, his voice hard, “I'm not asking again. Get out of my bar.”

“You... you fucking zombie,” Clipper snarls, backing up. “Your sheriff is gonna hear about this. I'll have you out on your ass.”

The other caravan guards are wary, but no one goes to Clipper's defense. We all watch as he runs out the door, and go back to talking and drinking as soon as he's gone.

That was close. Far too close for my liking.

I let out a long breath.

“Jesus, Gob,” I say, amazed. “I didn't know you knew how to fire a gun.”

“I... uh, I don't,” he says sheepishly. “It wasn't loaded.”

“Haha! Are you serious? That takes some real balls,” I say, laughing. “And where on earth did you come up with the stones to pull something like that? I've never seen you stand up for anything in your life.”

“Mostly from watching Helena,” he admits. “And, after what happened with Moriarty... I promised myself that I'd never let anything like that happen to you again. He'd have had to shoot me first.”

“Gob...”

His eyes are serious. I've never seen such a resolute expression on his face.

“Thanks, sweetie,” I say quietly. “You're a real friend.”

Something else flickers, some other kind of emotion, and then he looks away before I can figure out what he's thinking.

I'm about to ask him, but the trader walks in and joins his guards, and I'm left to go over to their table and cater to them. I haggle for goods, get great prices on a southern wine, and refill our stocks of Brahmin cheese. I buy a rare bottle of lemon juice, a jar of honey, some raw sugar—all things that Gob can use to make specialty drinks. I buy salt for our sandwiches, brahmin jerky, and mirelurk meat in tins. At long last I've got everything we need to keep our bar running, when the trader pulls out a diamond pendant on a black silken ribbon.

“Genuine,” he says. “Only two hundred caps.”

That's more than the whole sum of my purchases. I shake my head, even though it's real pretty. “Sorry,” I tell him. “I don't need anything like that. I'm just a bartender, you know?”

Not even a whore anymore. I don't need anything to look extra seductive—I'm not luxury merchandise. Maybe if I were a real high-end prostitute, I'd consider something like that. But Moriarty would never have bought me something so expensive and classy either. He wasn't aiming to cater to rich and fancy customers. Not when guys like Jericho were lining up to screw me.

The caravan stays overnight, and I get them set up in their rooms before going back downstairs and locking up. With only the two of us working, we don't stay open all night, and Colin's not around to demand that we work insane hours. So we usually close around one in the morning. If Helena were here, she could ask that we stay open for her, but without her around we like to stick to a schedule.

Preparing for an evening of washing dishes and scrubbing floors, I roll up my sleeves and start piling plates. I notice Gob approaching me out of the corner of my eye.

“Heya, Gob. Need anything?”

“Mm. Hold still.”

I comply, and I'm surprised when I feel something soft around my neck, his scarred hands tying the ribbon of that necklace I'd been looking at earlier.

“Gob!” I protest.

His breath is hot on my neck, and then he steps away, shy. “I thought you should have something pretty.”

I look down at it, and I trail a finger over the face of the diamond, feeling its polished smoothness. It's warm from his pocket, and for some strange reason that makes me happy. As if that gentle kindness in Gob is glowing beside my heart.

“But... where did you get the money for this?” I don't think that Gob would have used Moriarty's caps, since they're mine now, even though I wouldn't have cared if he did. That old bastard left enough for us to live well for years.

He says, ducking his head, “Helena pays me for running the bar. It's not much, but it's more than I've ever had... so I wanted to spend it on something to make you happy.”

“Awh, sweetie... thanks. You didn't need to.”

“You deserved it,” he says. “Besides, I got it for a lot cheaper than he was offering it to you.”

“Gob!” I'm horrified. “You didn't steal it, did you?”

“Of course not,” he says, and then smiles bashfully, not meeting my eyes. “I... I just talked to him and told him that it was for the prettiest girl in the world.”

I feel myself turning pink. _Prettiest...?_ I'm not used to such naive sweetness. Anytime a guy wants to compliment me, he talks about my boobs or my ass, or makes a comment about how I look like I'd be great at sucking dick. Which I am, that's no lie. But something like this?

“He, uh, he sold it to me for fifty caps,” Gob says.

“Damn!” I exclaim, relieved to find something to say. “You're an even better haggler than I am!”

Gob blushes harder and looks down at his hands. “He said I'd need the extra help if I was trying to win over the prettiest girl in the world.”

I smile, then put a hand on my hip. _Win me over?_ Is he... he can't be serious. Gob? Interested in _me?_ As I'd said to Helena before, I'm pretty sure he doesn't have working equipment. I've never seen him looking at girls in the bar, never suspected that he was ever showin' himself some lovin' in his bedroom.

So that means it's got to be platonic.

“Oh yeah?” I challenge. “So what's your endgame, then? You butterin' me up for some kind of favor?”

His face goes full-on red. “A... a favor? I mean, maybe.”

Huh. Didn't think that Gob would resort to these more devious measures, but the kid doesn't have a mean bone in his body. Whatever he's aiming at, I know I can trust him.

“What'll it be, then?” I ask, smiling. “You want me to start making breakfast for you? Help you pick out some new clothes?”

“Uhm... a... a kiss would be nice.”

I giggle. A kiss? That's all? I guess as a ghoul, you start getting desperate for human affection. Well, if he wants a kiss, then what's a quick peck on the cheek going to hurt? It's not as if I've never touched him before. Gob and I-

He leans forward and presses his lips against mine. My eyes fly open and I stare at his face, an inch away from mine, looking at his tattered eyelids and long lashes. His hands are on my waist and his eyes are closed and he's _kissing_ me.

Oh. He'd meant _that_ kind of kiss.

And... it's really not that bad.

I smile against his mouth and kiss him back, my tongue brushing against his. He tastes _good._ Like warmth and comfort, not like sour liquor or cigarette smoke. And he's not too aggressive of a kisser, which is good, and he's not just standing there like a statue, which is also good. He's running one hand up and down my back, and-

 _Holy shit._ He presses me close against himself and I feel something hard in his pants. I break off the kiss and step back, my face flushed, wild-eyed and confused.

“Oh, I, uhm...! Sorry!” Gob apologizes, panicking. “I didn't mean to go on for that long. I promise. I'm sorry, I'll go...”

“Mm, no, it's okay,” I say. “I didn't know you felt like that about me.”

My voice sounds calm, but inside I'm a hurricane. Emotions and thoughts bashing into one another, confused and alarmed. After five years of friendship with him, and suddenly I find out that he's still capable of rousing up a stiffy? For me, no less?

Gob looks down at himself and seems to only just realize that he's hard. “Oh god.” He turns away quickly, his face flaming, and mumbles, “You didn't know?”

Oh geez.

“Look, honestly, Gob, I didn't think that anything south of the border still worked anymore.” I pause. “Kinda just thought you liked me for bein' nice to you.”

“But that _is_ why I like you!” he protests, turning around. “Nova, you're the nicest person I've ever met. I just wanna make you happy. So, uhm, if I upset you or anything, you can just tell me to go away. I won't bother you again...”

“Don't be stupid,” I say, taking his hand. “We've always worked together. You think I'd want you to leave over something like this?”

“You aren't grossed out?”

I think about it for a little. “No,” I decide. He's my friend, and he's a surprisingly good kisser. I wonder where he got the experience, or if he's a rare natural. Given his personality, I can't imagine that he did too much practicing in Underworld, so... “Just surprised.”

I look up at him, and Gob's still staring at me, lips parted as if he's about to say something.

“Come over here,” I decide, and lead him over to one of the chairs.

“What are you-”

I sit down on his lap, take his rough, scarred face in both of my hands, and kiss him again.

“Nova...” he rasps.

Somehow, I'm not surprised. I think, maybe, something in the back of my mind knew how he felt, and there's another part of me that feels that this... _this_ is how it was meant to be. The two of us. Not to get sappy or anything, but Gob feels right to me. Over the past five years of watching each other's backs, nursing our injuries, confiding in one another and hoping for that narrow chance at freedom, we've wound around each other again and again until we'd be lost without the other.

His hands knead my hips, and then one slides down to grip my ass. I let out a low gasp at the contact, shocked to have such a reaction. After five years of whoring, you'd think I'd be used to this sort of thing—after all, _I_ thought I was. He's causing me to react in ways that I haven't for a long, long time.

“Sorry,” Gob mumbles against my lips, and I shake my head.

“You're fine. Keep going.”

He returns his hand to my ass, pressing his fingers hard against my skin. I lean into him eagerly, and he lets out a long, dangerous growl when I bite his lip.

My body thrills. I'd only ever heard that sound out of Charon before, when he was snarling at drunken customers who've gotten too close to Helena. I'd no idea that Gob could make a sound like that.

He slips a hand under my skirt, his fingertips catching on my sheer black stockings.

“You wanna take this somewhere else?” I whisper.

His eyes open wide, suddenly concerned. “Uh... I mean, you want to?”

This warmth, this gentleness... I don't think I'll ever be able to get used to it.

An emotion I don't dare name floods into my chest, and I smile tightly, the diamond over my heart sparkling in the dim light. I wrap my arms around his neck.

“Gob, you can take me wherever you want.”

 

 

 


End file.
